


Cowboy in shining vest

by dragon_rider



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Bullying, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Light Angst, M/M, Protectiveness, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is forced to remember how much his high school years sucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cowboy in shining vest

**Author's Note:**

> For a [prompt](http://illshutyoudowncowboy.tumblr.com/post/85175182609/prompt-where-like-adam-was-like-bullied-during-high) on my blog. 
> 
> Posting this over here because I can't believe the amount of fluff I'm writing for this fandom. Smh. 
> 
> Excuse the lame title. I couldn't help myself (also excuse the mistakes, English isn't my first language).

Adam doesn’t like admitting he’s ever had a hard time during anything. Even talking about Kara’s Flowers and his absolute failure as an artist back then, he insists he’s glad he and his band didn’t have instant success.

He doesn’t talk about how many nights he spent awake and miserable, awake and desperate, awake and thinking he had no path in life because there was absolutely nothing he was good enough at to pursue. He doesn’t talk about how much he felt like he was nobody and that was why his band wasn’t making it because his weird voice and his weird composing weren’t quirky, they were just mediocre and no one wanted that in their radio.

He enjoys people telling him he’s a cocky son of a bitch, that he’s full of himself. He smirks and agrees, smirks and inwardly pumps his fist in the air in silent victory because the dickheads that turned almost every single day of his high school life into a living Hell didn’t get what they wanted, because he’s still whole and they didn’t break Adam like they tried time and time again to do.

His self-confidence is a delicate, studied balance between bullshit and the meager trust Adam has managed to keep throughout the years of failure and disappointment, of bullying and beatings he endured in silence and never complained about because making a big deal out of it was giving the jerks what they wanted and the one thing Adam learned back then was to fake it like a pro, to give them a cocky and bloody grin when they thought the stupid and scrawny little boy couldn’t take it anymore and was about to burst into tears and scream for mercy.

Adam has a love-hate relationship with himself. It’s mostly good, these days; he trusts a little more in his gut, a little more in himself and has enough courage to wait it out and deal with the consequences without cursing himself to all kinds of Hell and wishing he could turn back time to make a different call, to be someone different, someone less complicated and stupid.

It certainly feels like he’s stepping into a time machine of some kind, standing face to face to those familiar and unkind faces again. It’s been who-the-fuck-knows-how-many years (18, a tiny voice in his head supplies) and they still look like big, arrogant, intimidating motherfuckers.

It’s probably worse because they’re all clearly steroid enthusiasts now and could very possibly beat Adam to a unrecognazible pulp without him being able to do shit about it because he does Yoga, not Muay Thai.

They’re also covered in tattoos and that’s obviously what they focus on since the likes of Adam sharing something with them is completely unacceptable.

"Levine!" Bradley shouts to get his attention, as if it was humanly possible to ignore a 6’3” dude with a freaking bull tattoed on his head, "Long time no see! Nice ink you got there, pal, it’s almost enough to make you look like a real man! Afraid you’re gonna need some real tattoos for that though but A+ for effort and all that shit! Keep trying!"

His buddies let out a roar of laughter that sounds and feels like thunder to Adam who smiles through the mocking even as he feels his insides freezing and screeching in remembered terror of times long past when he didn’t know whether he was worth shit or not and those jerks’ persistent and convincing yells telling him he wasn’t didn’t help him figuring that out at all.

"Thank you, I do try," Adam plays along. He disguises his cringe and how painfully stiff his whole body is with a teasing bow and an offhanded salute and walks past them to occupy his seat, "Enjoy the show, guys."

Tapping the Blinds has never been as challenging as that day with them right there and Adam’s paranoia insisting they were literally behind him, breathing down his neck and about to have some ‘real’ fun with him since he doubted they were here for the music and the artists.

Adam hightails so fast to his trailer during the first break he’s literally winded as he slips to the floor, his back against the door, and tries to quieten that stupid and childish fear coiling and uncoiling inside of him that is making him shiver and relive things he wishes he didn’t remember at all.

Someone knocks and Adam almost, almost cries out but manages to cover his mouth in time.

It’s a strong, big band. It’s easy for him to tell.

_Calm the fuck down, you loser. You’re safe, you’re okay, you’re **whole** , they can’t break you._

"Adam?"

Air rushes so fast out of him that Adam almost faints.

He’s so relieved. It’s Blake.

He unlocks the door, laughing hysterically and distancing himself from his closest friend on the show because that’s what he does to keep pretending, to keep himself from breaking.

He grins, tips his head to the side to invite him in. “Shelton.”

One of his favorite things about Blake is that he doesn’t go around the bushes, that he’s as frank as you can get.

He suddenly hates that about him, watching the grim scowl on his face and the tense line of his lips as he glances from Adam to the window.

"Who the fuck were those assholes?" Blake asks.  
"I don’t know, friends of yours maybe?" Adam shrugs, practically jumping on his feet with nervous energy as he tries getting to the mini bar only to be stopped by a firm grip around his arm, "Come on, man, since when you say no to booze because it’s not even noon?"

Blake just keeps on looking at him, he doesn’t even say anything else or pleads to hear the truth. His earnest blue eyes do the job for him and Adam’s breath hitches.

He has to duck his head, stick a finger in one of the holes of his t-shirt as if they were talking about whatever and Adam didn’t feel as fragile as a dried out autumn leaf in the wind.

"I don’t wanna talk about it," he admits raspingly, "Let it go, alright? Drink with me or get out of my hair because I’m not in the mood for sober conversation, Big Country."

Blake does neither. He gathers a reluctant Adam in his arms and holds on fast.

Adam hugs him back, the feeling of someone comforting him without him asking for it so alien he’s too stunned to do anything else.

"I know I joke about you sounding like a girl all the time, Adam," he says, chin tucked in Adam’s head, "But I mean that as a compliment. You know that, right? And if—Gosh darn it, I can’t remember, but if I’ve ever said you look like a girl too, I was just kid—"  
Adam gapes. Is he really that easy to read? “I know.”  
"Do you really?" Blake pushes, breaking apart barely enough to grip him by the shoulders and look at him square in the eyes, "Could’ve fooled me, with the way you spent the whole damn morning looking like a kicked puppy whenever the cameras weren’t rolling. Those fuckers struck a nerve and I wanna know why, Adam. I wanna make sure you’re okay, I wanna make damn sure I don’t do the same thing they did to you."  
"You don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’, do you, Blake?" and goddamn it, but that’s another thing that Adam adores about him. He gives up and confesses, "I was bullied, okay? I was bullied in high school. They must laugh every day about how they used to kick the frontman of Maroon 5 and how bad his acne and his punches were. That’s it, are you happy now?"

Blake nods, doesn’t look a bit satisfied to finally get the bit of information he came to fish out of Adam and cups his head in his hands briefly before going out of the trailer, walking in long strides like a man with a purpose.

_Oh, shit._

Adam scrambles to follow him but is still kinda late to hear whatever Blake told Security to get them to go with him and not so politely ask his former bullies to get the fuck out of the studio. He goes back to his chair and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible while craning his neck to witness what’s going on.

They all bristle at first, of course. And Blake doesn’t have any threatening tattos but he still manages to look impressive enough with his 6’5” and his shoulders and back straight for once.

Adam has never seen him looking so tall and tough. It’s quite something.

He can tell he’s not the only one starstruck by this new side of Blake judging by the excited whispering going on in the audience and the way Christina starts fanning herself.

"I wish he was my bodyguard too," she says in a sigh, giggling when a furious blush takes hold of Adam’s face, "Lucky you."

Adam steals one last glimpse at Blake, his… cowboy in shining vest, he muses.

He beams. “Lucky me.”


End file.
